by T. H. Lain
Regdar was startled when he felt the quarrel from a crossbow zip past his head, almost striking his helmet. The bolt came from behind them. He whirled about to see six more orcs rushing onto the bridge from the other bank, their armor covered with snow. Another quarrel struck him in the chest but bounced harmlessly off the steel breast plate beneath his winter furs.
"Gods," he muttered under his breath. Those weren't boulders at all on the far side of the bridge but concealed orcs. He should have guessed.
"Are they crazy?" Lidda yelled. "They'll bring down the bridge and all of us with it!"
She slipped behind Regdar to face the orcs coming up behind them. They looked crazy, their eyes glassed over with rage. Orcs weren't temperate beasts under any circumstance, and this unexpected event probably had them lashing out at anyone they could blame.
As the orcs drew close, Lidda used her lightness to her advantage by springing from her place and landing on the bridge's handrail. Her blade sliced an orc across its face. The orc squealed in pain and tripped backward. It broke through a portion of the far handrail as it tumbled off the bridge, joining its fellow in the ice below. Another swung its axe at Lidda, but she dodged the weapon easily and jumped behind the orcs this time. She heard wood breaking beneath her feet and barely pulled away before the deck gave way with a loud crack.
Meanwhile Regdar decided to do the last thing the orcs expected and meet their charge. He rushed headlong into the oncoming orcs, greatsword swinging. The sword struck a club from one of his opponent's hands, propelling it over the side of the bridge. The orc drew back in sudden fear. It tripped one of its fellows, who slipped on the icy wood and fell at Regdar's feet. The others trampled it as it tried futilely to pull itself up. The orc with the crossbow fired a second bolt at close range. Regdar barely managed to block it with the blade of his sword.
Lidda swore at the two orcs from the other side of the broken slat, trying everything to get them to step forward and risk falling into the river below. They resisted her taunts and turned instead on Regdar, running toward his unguarded back.
"Behind you!" Lidda shouted. The fighter replied with a horizontal swing of his greatsword as he pirouetted. The blade chopped through the handrail of the bridge on one side and caught both of the orcs in the midsection, slicing through their armor and drawing blood from their bellies. They stumbled back wounded and with all their attention suddenly focused on the human. Lidda hopped over the broken slat to slit the throat of first one, then the other. With that, all the orcs attacking from the far side of the bridge were defeated, so she moved up to Regdar's side to face off against those remaining.
"Hey, friends!" came a voice from somewhere. "Are we too late to help?"
Before Regdar and Lidda could reply, they heard a sound like the whistling of wind and a loud detonation opposite the orcs. One of the orcs was blown off its feet from behind. As it tumbled forward, it narrowly missed crashing into Regdar before falling off the side of the bridge.
"Be careful," Regdar shouted, recovering his footing and trading parries with the remaining orcs. "If there are any snowy mounds over there they might just be..."
An orc war-cry filled the air, confirming Regdar's suspicions. He and Lidda carved through the remaining two orcs on the bridge. When the orcs fell, the human and halfling could see that three more figures had joined the fray on the riverbank. At least four more orcs had also emerged from hiding there. Two of them engaged one man who wore a red leather military uniform and fought with a sword and a large, square shield. A black-robed man with a short spear held back another orc. A third figure, dressed in white and whirring about like a snowstorm, was an indistinct blur confronting the orc farthest from the bridge.
Regdar and Lidda rushed forward, mindful of their footing on the treacherous bridge, past the bodies of what they took to be dead or unconscious orcs. As they passed one, however, the orc's eyes popped open and it slashed Regdar's leg with its sword, leaving a long, jagged wound. Regdar fell forward with all his weight. His face smashed through one of the uneven slats, and he found himself staring down into the icy river and the broken bodies of the fallen orcs. There were jagged, dark holes where tumbling bodies had smashed through the brittle surface. The edge of the broken slat sliced Regdar's cheek.
Lidda served the treacherous orc a swift thrust of her sword into its belly. She was helping Regdar to his feet when she saw the uniformed man on the river bank overwhelmed by his orc opponents. He was clearly inexperienced in this sort of fighting. He held his shield so far from his body that the one of the orcs easily wrenched it aside, allowing the other to slash the man's sword arm. His sword, still gripped by his forearm, fell to the ground and disappeared beneath the snow. Their position was marked by a bright splash of red blood.
The man with the short spear, whose black cloak fluttered dramatically as he leaped and hopped, abandoned the axe-wielding orc before him and rushed to his fellow's aid. One of the orcs had its back turned, and it was immediately speared through the neck. The counterattack was too late to save the uniformed man, however; he had already joined his severed arm in a spreading, red stain beneath the thick carpet of snow.
Regdar rose to his knees with Lidda's help, then clutched the handrail and pulled himself to his feet. He was clearly in pain from his wounded leg, but he hobbled toward the far side of the bridge nevertheless. Lidda and Regdar reached the opposite bank in time to see the cloaked man conjure a pellet of solid magic in his hand and launch it at the orc that stood over the slain man. Trailing green streamers of magic, it caught the orc squarely in the face and sent it tumbling down the riverbank onto the solid ice beyond. The orc he'd turned his back on was rushing forward, axe raised overhead. Lidda leveled her crossbow and squeezed the trigger.
The quarrel buried itself in the orc's side. The brute registered its pain with a toothy snarl but continued toward the magic-user. Alerted by the snarl, the wizard snatched back his short spear from the neck of the slain orc at his feet and spun toward the threat. His turn was too slow. With a swing of its axe, the orc knocked away the weapon before it was in position.
Regdar raised his greatsword, but his wound slowed him too much to reach the orc before it could strike.
With a sudden whirr of snow and a loud smashing noise, something hit hard on the orc's head. The beast dropped its weapon and fell, its skull crushed by a heavy club in the hands of a slender, young woman who looked too weak to wield so massive a weapon. Regdar stared at her. An eerie quiet settled onto the bridge and its bloodied mass of churned snow and crumpled bodies.
The woman's white robes were elegantly functional but far too sheer for this climate. Her face was what riveted Regdar's attention. The warrior was convinced he was looking at a creature from one of the goodly planes rather than this coarse world. She lowered her hood, displaying a short crop of honey-blond hair framing a pale, crystalline face that was smooth and pure. Regdar stared at her until Lidda tugged his arm, bringing him back into the world.
The man who had just been saved by the woman wrapped his arms around her. "You've saved me too many times now," he said. "I'll have to return the favor one of these days."
She spoke, and the sound was like the ringing of crystal. "If only we could have saved him." She looked down on the dead man, who Regdar and Lidda could see was little more than a boy in armor.
"What was his name?" asked Lidda.
"Teron. Teron of Atupal," this unearthly woman said. "He was one of the town guard. I suspect he lied to us when he claimed to be an experienced warrior."
"There aren't too many like him in Atupal," the man said. He turned to Lidda and Regdar. "We should introduce ourselves. My name's Hennet Dragonborn." He gave a courtly smile to Lidda, striking an exaggerated pose as he did, with his shoulders back, head high, and one leg far ahead of the other. Lidda was charmed instantly, and Regdar was wary.
"It'll be nice to work with a wizard again," Lidda told him. "We haven't since ..."
"Not a wiza
rd, little miss," Hennet corrected, "but close. I'm a sorcerer. And if you like spellcasters, here's another for you. Let me present Sonja of the North."
"Another spellcaster?" asked Regdar, cocking an eyebrow. "Are you a priestess, milady?"
"No, not a priestess," she said with a slight laugh. "I'm a druid, but I can heal that gash in your leg, if you wish."
"A druid?" asked Lidda. "You don't look like any druid I've met." Most of them wore only green or brown, Lidda reflected, while Sonja looked as if she had been born in the snow.
"And you'll never find another like Sonja," Hennet said, running a hand over her back. "Her home is the northern tundra. Nightfall's coming. Let's make camp. We can explain more once we have some shelter."
"I trust you're the party from Atupal," said Regdar.
"Hired and dispatched by Atupal, yes," Hennet explained, "but not from Atupal. We were just there when this strange affair started. If that's what you're worried about, we have no particular stake in Atupal's relations with Klionne."
"Nor do we," said Lidda. "Klionne hired us to investigate this phenomenon, too. Don't get me wrong, we care about the people of Klionne. Just not..."
"Just not its petty squabbles with its neighbor," finished Hennet. He looked down at Teron's corpse. "He didn't care about those things, either. He begged us to let him come along. I think he hoped we'd adopt him or some such thing and invite him to go adventuring with us after this. So much for adventures." He turned to Sonja. "I suppose we'll have to pick up his body on the way back. The cold should keep it preserved well enough, if the wolves don't find it."
"I'm Regdar," the fighter interrupted, "and this is Lidda. This bridge was unstable before, and it's only gotten worse because of the fight. If we're careful, it may hold together."
They crossed the bridge one at a time. Hennet went first, poking each orc body with his spear to be sure it was dead before pushing it off the bridge with his foot. Reassembled on the far side, they finished their introductions.
"I hope we can trust your dedication to this mission," Sonja declared to Regdar and Lidda.
Lidda instantly gritted her teeth, bracing for Regdar's heated comeback. Instead, she was shocked to hear him say, "Of course." Instead of being insulted, Regdar smiled at the woman and looked every inch the fool.
"We're here to safeguard the lives of the people of Klionne and Atupal and all those beyond this region who may be affected by this phenomenon."
"The people should be protected, yes," the druid said, "but the damage is done already." She spread her arm to indicate the vast expanse of white surrounding them. "Human lives may be protected from the cold, but what of this? Animals, plants, the land itself, all these natural cycles have been hideously disrupted. This is not supposed to be. Some magic has made it this way, and it is my duty to undo it, or at least to minimize the damage. The cycle of nature is broken here, and it must be restored."
Regdar frowned slightly, but Lidda shook her head. If this Sonja was like most of the druids shed met, Lidda suspected that humanity was a distant second concern for her. Druids worried about nature first. But, Lidda supposed, the woman's motivation didn't really matter if she was willing to help them.
"I had to persuade the mayor of Atupal to let Sonja come on this mission," Hennet said. "The people there aren't all as friendly as Teron was. Half of them wanted to lock her up out of suspicion that she was responsible for this."
"I don't suppose you can control the weather?" Lidda asked this new companion.
"I'm afraid not," Sonja replied, "but I do know some spells that might make the cold a little easier to endure for you and the others."
Regdar smiled at her like a puppy.
"Uh, Regdar," said Hennet uncertainly, "why don't we compare maps and see what we can figure out about this region." He unfolded a parchment from his pocket. "The one they gave me in Atupal is pretty bare, and I feel lucky to have it. They weren't especially gracious or generous, considering we're going out to their rescue. Aside from some trinkets and the vague promise of riches on our return, all they gave us was this map, an old wand, and a magic ring for Sonja."
Hennet slid a wooden wand from his furs. It was about the length of a short sword—too long to carry in a pocket but easily thrust through a belt without being much of a hindrance. At first glance it looked like an ordinary piece of wood, but its gnarled tip resembled a flicker of flame that was so startlingly realistic it couldn't be a simple carving. It identified this device as a wand of fire or fireballs. Such a weapon could be very deadly, if used with care. From the way Hennet handled it, Lidda could see that he regarded the wand with a mix of awe and casual confidence.
"I doubt my map is much better than yours," Regdar said. When he unfolded it next to Hennet's, everyone could see that both were equally barren of detail. Hennet wondered aloud, "How can these people live so close to this place but never visit it long enough even to make a map?"
"They fear it," answered Regdar, "probably with good reason. Tomorrow, we'll start toward this Fell Forest. The people in Klionne think the forest is the origin of this cold. That could be nothing more than local prejudice and superstition, but who knows? Maybe they're right."
Hennet nodded. "Sonja tried to dispel the wave when it passed over us. That ring the mayor gave her was supposed to do the trick, but it didn't even to slow the...whatever this is down."
"I had little hope it would succeed," Sonja said. "The magic affects a huge area of land, so its power must be far greater than anything in this ring. I had hoped, however, that I might slow it down, but there was no noticeable effect at all. The ring worked. I could feel it, and its magic was not insubstantial. But it was as if the power of this ring was inconsequential against the advancing wave of cold. Whatever drives this is operating with an entirely different magnitude of force."
"I don't follow you," Lidda injected. "You mean, it was like this cold just ignored your spell, as if it didn't exist?"
Sonja shook her head. "Many variables come into play when trying to cancel one magical effect with another, too many for me to say with certainty what really happened. It was...unusual, but I'm not sure why. In all likelihood, an effect this large was created by magic that's too advanced for this ring to dispel. That's not uncommon. Perhaps I'll have better luck at its source."
Talk about the impenetrability of this magic made Lidda uneasy, so she changed the subject. "What shall we do about the bridge?"
"What do you mean?" asked Hennet. "Why worry about the bridge?"
"Those orcs we fought were desperate. I don't think they were here waiting to ambush someone coming across the bridge. The normal bridge traffic won't be coming through until this situation is resolved.
"I think those orcs were guards," she continued. "They were here to hold the bridge and protect it from destruction so they could use it. Their homes are being wrecked and their routines disrupted by this cold. I'd bet they'll try to leave the area, and they'll cross this bridge to do it. When they do, they'll pose a danger to Atupal and Klionne. From what I've heard, they're not the only tribe of monsters out here. I say we should cut down the bridge."
Hennet's brow furrowed. "Then how will we get across the river on the way back?"
"If it gets warm again, we should be able to find a place to ford the river," answered Regdar. "If we can trust this thing they call a map, the river's somewhat narrower to the east."
Hennet shook his head firmly. "What if we need to leave in a hurry or before the river warms up? As you said, the bridge is barely standing now. If monsters try to use it, the whole thing will probably collapse under their feet. A few less orcs in the world is fine with me."
"That's beside the point," Regdar protested, but he was interrupted by Sonja.
"It's almost sundown, and while I can probably travel this terrain by night, I trust that isn't the case for the rest of you. We can worry about the bridge in the morning."
With a few quick spells, Sonja cleared an area of snow to
pitch their tents. She shared a tent with Hennet and Lidda shared with Regdar. As Hennet kept watch outside, Regdar whispered to Lidda, "What do you think of Hennet?"
You don't want to know what I think, she thought, but all she said was, "What kind of name is Hennet? Sounds like a chicken."
Regdar chuckled softly. The halfling whispered, "What do you think of Sonja?"
The fighter thought on that. "I don't know," he honestly said. She had healed his leg by running her palm over the wound, and she did it with the powers of nature, not the clerical magic he was more familiar with. It felt different; more organic, more personal. The contrast intrigued him, and so did Sonja.
The temperature dropped considerably overnight. In the morning, as they dismantled their camp, Lidda repeated her concerns about the bridge, seconded by Regdar. Only they favored destroying it, and with the vote split two and two, the bridge was allowed to stand.
"I make it about two days to the forest," Hennet announced after studying his map for a few minutes. "That's assuming we can keep moving as if this were summer . . . which, of course, it is." He paused for laughs that didn't come then pointed into the distance. "It's somewhere in this direction. And that's about all the information we're going to get from these maps. We can probably throw them away once we actually start moving."
"We might need them on the way back," Sonja reminded him.
"Yes," he allowed, "the way back. We certainly will want to be able to find our way back to Atupal and Klionne with the head of the dragon in tow so we can collect our rewards and be feted as heroes."
"Dragon!" shouted Lidda and Regdar in synch. "What dragon?"
"Oh," Sonja's face turned dour. "You hadn't heard?"
"Word must not have gotten to Klionne before you left," Hennet said. "The day before we set out, a traveler came into Atupal saying he'd passed through a little hamlet called Litkil, north of the city. He found it empty, all the people dead—frozen, as if by a white dragon's breath. The hamlet was outside the cold zone at the time. The treasury and the local shrines were ransacked but the houses were otherwise undisturbed."
